that's what your mom said

my mother is a crazy person. i know everyone says their mother is a crazy person but i really mean she's a crazy person. i know every one says you think your mother's a crazy person, but mine really, really is a crazy person. she has many bowls of heads* that she's collected from around the world.

i'm just sayin.

context of my mother: she lived on a navajo reservation after college. she still talks about living there and that one time she was on a horse and the horse saw a snake and it bucked. she had a baby (my brother) in brasil. she had me by c-section right after her father died (i moved when that happened). she birthed my sister and she's still alive (my sister is a whore). she finally completed her PhD at like fifty. she was a college prof. she was super involved with storytelling. she was a storyteller. she acted as the executive director of a storytelling festival around these parts for about 10ish years. she was the president of a national storytelling something. she was a helluva mother. now she's "retired." and taking care of my aunt. and dealing with my father's mother (bleh) who lives "on the hill" on my parent's property.

my grandmother has a golf cart and three different scooter chairs. that's really mostly because of her son, though. he's obsessed with buying things that move. evidenced by the fact that he sent me a link to an ebay listing for a mobile grooming van. fyi: i don't groom dogs.

but this is about my mother. first of all: her house. let me tell you, that woman has stuff. she has stuff and shit from everywhere. her walls are covered! covered! with pictures. she has an entiiiiiire collection of pinocchio dolls, etc. including a picture of me as a child next to her child sized pinocchio. she has an entire collection of statue of liberty doodads.

she is mystified by electronic devices. she is addicted to npr and diet coke. she is the most selfless person i've ever met. she married my father, the craziest thing anyone's ever done ever. she loves a dog that i foisted off on her four years ago. a dog who's bitten two humans and has a fucked up skeletal system. her tail only wags one way. my mother thinks she might be autistic. she actually called me up to say that she thinks the dog's autistic. she said those words into my ear about that retarded dog. what? she's got a verifiable diagnoses.

that's the thing about that woman. she can talk to anyone. and she can talk for hours. and she will make you tell her things about things. if you sit next to my mother on an airplane, she's going to call me and tell me your whole life story. for reals. she will launch into this whole thing about you and it will include personal information. so if you end up next to a grey haired lady who seems nice but could also pass for a secret government interrogation agent. that's my mom. and you better be ready and you better think about what exactly you want the secret government to know about you. and your elicit past. and your elicit drug usage. and your elicit sexual tastes. because she's got the goods.

tip: if you think you can stop listening when she launches into one of her stories, you are wrong. come to think of it. i don't really know how she gets information out of people because i can never really get that woman to shut up. i have literally been on the phone with her where all i say is "hello" and "ok." anywho, she knows if you're not listening. she knows if you put the phone one speaker and then go roaming about your apartment because when you're like the furthest away from the phone she's gonna say something like, "...and that's why i'd like to give you one hundred dollars because you're so smart and pretty. what do you think of that becky? please answer or you won't get the money."

then you have to run really quickly to the phone while smashing your toes on stuff in the way. and you're like, "i'd love some 100 dollars." and she's like, "were you even listening to me, becky???" and you're like, "absolutely! you were talking about how pretty i am." and then she says, "you are very pretty," because you are. you really are, you're a princess among men.

that's the best way to distract her. talk about becky. or becky's problems. there's quite. a. few. ooooorr you could talk about that skin thing that the dog has all over it. she's been trying to talk to me about but i keep changing the subject. i'm crossing my fingers that it's some sort of fatal skin disease that might free us all from the terrible wrath of the deformed great dane. i mean.... something nice instead!

she has such a large heart. it's wear i got mine from. (just the genetics. i didn't steal anyone's heart. yet. and also, when you say someone has a large heart you're really talking about a "heart" not a "heart-heart." because if you have a large heart-heart, it can cause trouble. it's really not a medically great thing to have a big heart-heart. it's bad). we are, however, talking about "heart" the part of you that makes you do things that are nice. i'm sure we're on the same page now. i'm sure we've achieved understanding. the woman's the most empathetic person i know besides me. she's not very practical but she's willing to help anyone at any time. she loves the world.

speaking of practicality, do NOT call her if you ever get a flat tire. true story: one time i got a flat tire. i know! i was in front of a eatery-ing establishment. i was alive. i was fine. i could not figure out who to call. so, i called my mother. i said, "hello?" she said, "ARE YOU ALRIGHT??????" i was a little freaked out that she knew something was wrong but i believe she has that whole "odds" thing going on. if she answers the phone by shouting, "ARE YOU ALRIGHT??????" enough times, eventually, she'll get it right. i replied, "i'm fine," very firmly. "i have a flat tire. who should i-?" i tried to explain very quickly. you should be proud. i got out eight whole words before she said, "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!!!!!! CALLYOURFATHER!" and she hung up on me. hung up in my face!

she's real cool in a crisis. wouldn't she be a fabulous emt? when i hurt my arm in 5th grade by smashing it through a winder, she swears! that someone told her that someone had slashed me with a kitchen knife. little did she know, it was a bear. in texas. texas bears.

around that time, i slept under a blanket. it was an ugly flowery blanket that was thick and ugly and hot. unbeknownst to most people (my mother), this blanket contained magical bullet repelling powers. you see, in texas, it's hot. it was very hot in the upstairs of our house. i had to be under the blanket! what if there were to be a gun fight between my brother and sister? what if a strange male, man who had a vendetta against the becky women came in and opened fire? i certainly couldn't use my non-existent ladder that my mother refused to buy me for gun or fire related emergencies. jesus christ, mother, if i die! it's on YOU! so i had to be satisfied under my bullet proof blanket. it's a rough world. the upstairs is the roughest.

do you know what that woman did when she finally finagled a blanket related answer out of me? she. laughed. she said, "why, oh why are you under this blanket sweating, becky?" "i need it," i said. "you're sweating! you don't need it. why? tell me why. it's ok," she said reassuringly. "it's because of the bullets," i finally replied in a trusting and loving manner. *blink* pause ending with smile. then it dawned on me and i dove under the covers while she laughed and laughed.

we got over it but it's still hurts my heart a little. my "heart." we've had some rough times. *coughblanketcough* we've had ups and downs. we've had our ins and outs. we've had... you know, mostly mother daughtery stuff. we were very, very close my whole life. i never did that whole, "i hate you because i'm bleeding from my vagina!!" stage that some girls go through. it has been hard for her to transition into my having a serious significant other. we're redefining our relationship. some of it makes me angry. some of it makes me sad. i think we'll come out on the other side better than ever. or at least bloody and tired. because of all the fist fighting we do. sometimes i think if i were married it might be different. i dunno. we'll see.

i do know i can always count on her. i know she's good for a story. she's good for a laugh. she'll always take care of the people she loves. and another thing, i'm gonna tell any future babies that their grandmother will laugh at them if they ever reveal the existence secret bulletproof blankets. i won't. she will. she's a monster.

and that's the time. you found out. my mother lived on a navajo reservation.

*they're like statue things, man.